Hellfire
by Tyrant19
Summary: A Mandalorian bounty hunter is all that stands between an old friend, a Dark Jedi, and his deranged, sinister army. Can Phiht Piroc stand against one of the Dark Side's most twisted adepts- and survive?
1. Chapter 1: Another Assignment

_Darkness._

_The darkness was all-encompassing, surrounding the chained prisoner. Shackled to a wall in a dungeon on a forgotten world in the Outer Rim, the man moaned. His captor had stopped the torture sessions- for now. The never-ending torture sessions wearied the broken shell of a man. It was his curiosity that kept him alive at the hands of his dark host. Curiosity as to why he was being held in this dark dungeon on this hellish world, in a fortress that radiated darkness, more encompassing than that of the cell around him. _

_Why was he here? Why did the deranged man that called this fortress home hold him here, against his will, guarded by an army of minions that didn't even seem remotely human, at least not any more. It was his curiosity that kept him alive. Curiosity, and hope._

_Hope that his message was received. Hope that his ally would come. _

_He hoped for a miracle, a miracle that would save him from this cruel and twisted fate. _

_He hoped for Phiht Piroc to arrive._

**Hyperspace- Near the Y'toub System**

Vertical City. The Smuggler's Moon of Nar Shaddaa loomed in the forward viewport of the _Call of Destiny_. The moon was built over with massive buildings, much like Imperial City was. It was a moon that trillions of beings, sentient and otherwise, called home. Much of the planet was a haven for smugglers, con-artists, thieves, and other less-than-savory characters of all shapes and sizes. It was one of those smugglers, most of which were employed by the Hutts of the world Nar Shaddaa orbited, Nal Hutta, that I was searching for. 

A weeklong hunt and finally ended with this backwater world. From world to world I had followed the smuggler, a Duros called Renatu Madak, and the hunt finally ended here. The smuggler had a cargo that didn't belong to him, and Drolslobba the Hutt wanted it back. I didn't know details of what the cargo was, but the Hutt had paid him handsomely to make sure it didn't fall into the hands of one of the other Hutt _kajidics_ that rivaled Drolslobba's Besadii clan. If Desilijic got their hands on the prize Madak had, things could go against Besadii. The clan didn't want that. Hutt politics were very cutthroat, and one advantage a clan had over another could lead to having the greatest power on Nal Hutta. 

I slid the _Call of Destiny_, my modified YT-2400 freighter, into the inbound traffic lane, heading planetside towards the Smuggler's Moon. It was just another anonymous freighter finishing the last leg of a long cargo-hauling trip. Following behind a larger _Action_-series freighter, I kept my freighter following at a good distance, keeping away from the larger freighter's engines. 

It wasn't long before the freighter entered the atmosphere. I changed my course to land in one of the larger starports. The way I figured it, a fugitive on the run was more likely to head for a larger spaceport, hoping to get lost in the crowd of freighters coming and going day-round. I had an ID tab on Madak's _Barloz_-class freighter, the _Duro Star_, and a list of known aliases Madak and his ship operated under. He also had a small crew that was extremely loyal to him. It consisted of a professional gunslinger, a few mechanics, and Human trained at one of the Imperial Academies as an Imperial Marine. I would most likely have to deal with the crew in addition to the ship's rogue captain, in order to get the cargo for Drolslobba. The only problem was finding the freighter.

I guided the _Destiny_ down into an open hangar, easing the ship through the narrow opening and gently landing the freighter on its set of landing gear. I rose from the seat and walked out of the cockpit, into the main hold of the vessel. I turned and opened the gear locker near the cockpit's hatchway, and removed from it the scarred and battered helmet of a Mandalorian warrior. Like the rest of the armor I wore, it was a dark, gunmetal grey, utterly featureless save for the dark, T-shaped visor. I placed it over my head and reached back into the gear locker. I pulled from it a large assault rifle, a MerrSonn Munitions WESTAR M-5 rifle. I had inherited it from my father, a Mandalorian commando during the Clone Wars. He had fought alongside Mandalore and his loyal battalion of 211 soldiers, until he died in a failed assault at Norval II. All that was recovered from his corpse was his rifle, taken from a Republic-allied Mandalorian earlier in the war, and the shattered bronze helmet he wore. It hung from a pike on _Manda'yaim_, alongside the other helmets of Mandalore's fallen. It was a fitting honor for a good and loyal soldier. I shouldered the rifle by its sling and walked to the landing ramp. I lowered it and walked out into the perpetual gloom of Vertical City. 

The first place I went was the main office the spaceport. I walked to the main desk, which dominated much of the small room. I was the only person inside the office besides the Rodian dockmaster. He barely looked up as I approached, but then did a double take once he realized a _Mando_ soldier, armed with a large assault rifle, in addition to the massive amount of armament built into the suit. "Um..." he stuttered. "You're the YT-2400 that just landed, yes?"

"Yes," the baritone of my voice rumbled from within the faceless helmet. I wasn't good with nonhuman facial expression, but I think I made the alien uneasy. Good.

"Ah. Um, well, uh, you owe the port a 2000 credit docking fee, sir." I handed over a credit voucher, untraceable money compared to credit tabs, to pay for my docking. "We don't look too well on trouble, sir, so if you could restrain from firing your weapon here, please, we at the Nar Shaddaa Docking Authority would much appreciate it."

"I don't make promises," I responded. "I'm looking for someone."

"Someone's always looking for someone on Nar Shaddaa. How can the Docking Authority assist you?"

Well, hopefully this would be a little easier than usual. "I'm looking for a freighter, _Barloz_-class, that would have landed within the past forty-eight hours. It should be registered as the _Duro Star_."

"Ah, yes, the _Duro Star_." The Rodian tapped at the datapad in front of him. "That particular freighter hasn't made port here in four months." He tapped again. "There are currently seven freighters of that particular class docked here." Again, he tapped on his datapad. "Of course, specific information on said ships in port is not to be given out to other spacers." He gave a quick glance at my weaponry, and then tapped at his datapad again. "I believe, of course, we could make an exception every now and then. Does the ship you seek operate any known aliases?"

"Yes, as do most ships that operate as smuggling vessels." I scowled beneath my helmet. Shame the dockmaster couldn't see that. "List off the names of the ones in port."

"Of course, sir. Do any of these sound like the vessel: _Star of Corulag_, _Freedom's Call_, _Fait, Neimodian Nova, Epsilon Delta, Tres-enta'ares, Hope of a World._"

"The _Neimodian Nova_. It's that one."

"You can find it in Docking Bay 12-7-B." The Rodian twitched slightly. "Of course, you will please restrain from firing your weapon."

"Again, no promises. I plan on shooting back if they take a potshot at me."

"Self-defense, of course. I understand." He tapped at his datapad one more time. "Have a good day, sir."

"Sure thing." I turned and walked past a Zabrak that was coming through the door of the small office. I walked back out into the spaceport, and walked quickly over to a directory. It wasn't terribly crowded at this hour, so I guessed it was night locally, but the beings that walked through the spaceport still gave me a wide berth. Most people tried to keep as far away as possible from a fully armed Mandalorian. I glanced at the map quickly and found Docking Bay 12-7-B in comparison to the You Are Here sticker on the map. I memorized the route, then walked through the dimly-lit corridors toward Madak's hangar bay. I would take care of the smuggler and his crew, and claim the cargo for Drolslobba. It couldn't be that hard. 

**Nar Shaddaa- Outside Hangar 12-7-B**

I somehow got lucky enough to spot one of Madak's crew members leaving a general store near Hangar 12-7-B. I picked up my pace slightly, pushing my way through the steadily-increasing crowd to grab him before he returned to the hangar. The less to have to worry about in a potential gunfight could be a bonus in the hunting business. My ID scanner tagged him as Trent Vandor, the former Imperial Marine. Getting him out of the firefight would be a huge bonus. Mechanics with guns didn't score high enough on my threat list in comparison with a trained Marine to be a problem. 

Vandor was wary, that much was certain. He constantly through quick glances over his shoulder, eying for someone tailing him as he returned to his ship. He was good, but I was better. I had removed 

my helmet, making it less likely for me to be picked out as a threat. The rest of my _beskar _armor was harder to see in the crowd, but a helmet stands out, especially the distinctive T-shaped visor of my scarred _buy'ce._ He turned from the main thoroughfare and into the airlock to the hangar. I slid in behind the ex-Marine as the hatchway began to seal. He didn't even seem to notice me. I quietly replaced my helmet. I took another step closer, raised my right arm, and fired.

Mandalorian armor has a lot of useful tools. I fired off my liquid-cable launcher at the Marine. Catching him completely off-guard, the cable zipped around his ankles and, with a tug on my part, launched him off my feet. Before he could reach down to untie himself, I had raised my WESTAR M-5 and fired a stun round at him, close range. The Marine slumped, muscles visibly slacking as he fell into unconsciousness. The stun blast on my rifle could knock out a good sized Wookiee for a few minutes, so, with luck, Vandor would be out for a bit. I hit the control panel by the doorway, opening it.

The mechanic standing right outside the doorway didn't even see it coming. He caught a stun blast to the chest, felling him like a tree. It was almost too easy. 

Of course, the easiness never lasts. The echo of the assault rifle's blast had alerted the two guards that stood by the entry ramp of the _Barloz _freighter. The one looked uncomfortable with the handgun he held. The other, however, was obviously the gunslinger in Madak's group, Brank Lavoz. The overconfident _di'kut_ was spinning his dual DH-57 Annihilator pistols around his fingers. I brought my rifle up as he stopped the elaborate spinning pattern of his pistols. I hit him full-one with three shots, on kill rather than stun, at him. He was ripped off his feet with the force of the plasma rounds hitting his chest. The other guard had dropped his blaster onto the floor of the hangar and had darted up the boarding ramp before I even had him lined up in my sights. 

I went to follow him up, but was stopped short as something went over my head and caught on my neck. Someone had come up behind me when I had been occupied with the gunslinger with a cable and was trying to choke me with it! I activated the 360-degree vision of my helmet and saw the Marine, Vandor, had recovered pretty quickly from the stun blast. I dropped my rifle as I struggled against the other soldier. He was big and muscular, even for a Marine, and I doubt I was strong enough to compete with his strength. 

I was left with one option.

I squeezed my right hand into a fist and felt a satisfying jolt as a knife blade slid out of the knuckle plate of my gauntlet. From the sides sprang blades of multiple shapes and sizes. I brought my arm up to my neck as I kicked backwards, feeling a sickening twist of Vandor's knee as my boot slammed into his leg. The knife blade flicked up, the _beskar_ blade cutting easily through the thin metal cable. I turned, and took a fist from the big Marine across the faceplate of my helmet. I lost my balance momentarily and took a few involuntary steps backwards. It gave the Marine enough time to recover and leap at me.

He tackled me like a professional athlete. I was on the ground in a heartbeat, Vandor on top of me. He yanked a handgun from the holster at his waist and put it to my chest. "It's lights out, Mandalorian." 

I responded with a jab up with my right fist. The drawn blade went through the Marine's throat with a wet slurping sound. Blood poured from wound onto my visor, and Trent Vandor's great weight fell off me and onto the ground beside me. He still bled, red blood pooling on the cold durasteel deck plates. I got to my feet, grabbed my dropped assault rifle, and wiped the blood off of my visor with the back of my gloved hand. I marched towards the _Duro Star_, blaster rifle raised.

The reputation of a lot of targets leads one to believe they'll know how a target will react when finally encountered. Madak, however, surprised me. He had a blaster drawn, but he was curled in the fetal position in a corner of the freighter's main hold, shaking. I walked up him, stopping when I was merely a foot away. This pathetic thing led me on a week-long chase? _Fierfek_, that was ridiculous.

I lowered my rifle to point at Madak's head. He dropped his blaster as he raised both hands to cover his eyes. _Hut'uun,_ I thought silently to myself. "Where's Drolslobba's cargo, Madak?"

The blasted coward quickly pointed to a small wooden box, tied down on top of one of several larger crates in the hold. "It's right there. Please, don't kill me. I don't want to die!"

"You lived a good life, I think."

"Please, I'm barely out of my teen years."

"I didn't say long, I said good. You cross someone, you've got to learn to live with the consequences." I smiled beneath my helmet; I liked good irony every now and then. 

The cowering Duros' eyes widened in panic. "Please, it was just a job. I don't want to die!"

"Everyone dies. It's the only everlasting justice in this universe."

I fired. The Duros, face now fried beyond recognition, collapsed. I turned and walked over to the pile of crates on the other side of the hold. I grabbed the box, an intricately carved and decorated piece. It was small, barely a cubic foot in volume. Tucking it under one arm, I walked to the engine room of the freighter. I put the box down and pulled a small canister from my belt. I punched a few buttons on its otherwise-featureless surface. The thermal detonator, now armed on a ten minute timer, was carefully placed inside the starboard engine block. I grabbed the box, my ticket to getting paid, and exited the late Renatu Madak's freighter. I left Hangar 12-7-B exactly as I had found it, besides the bodies lying where they had fallen on the floor. 

**YT-2400 freighter **_**Call of Destiny**_**, outbound from Nar Shaddaa**

The box was strapped in, as if it were a sentient being, on the vacant copilot's seat. That seat was never occupied: I made it a general rule to work alone. There were few in the Galaxy I could call my friend. One of them had left a message for me while I had been off hunting Madak. I called up the hologram feed of the closest friend I had ever known, Roykin Dermitchal, a man I had grown up with my homeworld of Concord Dawn.

Roykin had followed Mandalore into the Clone Wars some thirteen years ago. I had chosen to stay behind on Concord Dawn, where I was one of the Journeyman Protectors charged with the protection of my homeworld. I was the law there, and for remaining loyal to the people of my homeworld rather than heed Mandalore's call to arms, I was exiled. I hadn't spoken to him since he left with the Protectors to fight for Dooku's Separatists, but I knew he had survived the war. I didn't know details of it, but he managed to escape the fate of nearly the entire battalion of Mandalorian Protectors.

The hologram came to life on the control panel in front of me. I recognized Roykin, despite over a decade of aging since I had last seen him. He looked… panicked. I knew Roykin well enough to know he didn't ever panic. That couldn't be good.

"_Phiht,"_ the blue image of Roykin said, _"I know we haven't spoken in some time, but I'm in serious trouble. You're one of the only people I can trust, and I need your help now. I'm on assignment in the Outer Rim, on a small, hellish world called Shola. Things have gone sour and I need your help if I'm to escape alive."_

The message kept playing, but static interference during his transmission, or possibly even signal jamming, had started to garble the message. _"I need…droids…there's…Dark Jedi…some sort of mechanical… nightmare virus… please respond,"_ was all that could be made sense of the message. Whatever trouble Roykin had gotten in to, there was no way it was good. I still had a job to finish though. 

For the first time in over a decade, I found myself conflicted between commitment to an assignment, and commitment to a friend. Once again, it was a clash of honor and duty.

I didn't know what to do. 


	2. Chapter 2: A Generous Host

_The light glaring into the prisoner's face was blinding._

_Stone walls enclosed the small workshop of the deranged monster's torture chamber. Instruments built to inflict pain hung from rusted hooks on the cold, gray walls. The prisoner, strapped to a huge rack designed to course electricity through a victim's body at maximum voltage, had only a few moments to glance at his surroundings, before it began again. He roared in pain as ten thousand volts of pure electricity ran through his body at the speed of light. The electricity continued, steadily increasing in voltage- and in pain. The man knew he should have been dead, but yet he wasn't._

_He knew the only reason he was still alive was because it suited the monster. _

_He stood in the room, garbed in dark gray robes, nearly blending in with the stone around him. A hood concealed his face. The man could picture his spectral tormentor to be some sort of demon beneath the voluminous robes. His dark powers were all that kept the man alive, if only because it was good for him. He thrived on pain and suffering. It wasn't often an actual living being graced his dark fortress. The opportunity the monster had before him wouldn't be lost. _

_The monster thrived on pain. _

_He fed on it. _

_He became stronger as Roykin Dermitchal's pained screams increased in volume. Any other being's ears may have bled at the screaming. The servants around him could shrug it off, as they had no hearing anymore. The beasts that served the monster, part machine and part living being, existed only to serve the monster's dark will. Their master thrived in pain, and if the master thrived, so did the beasts that served him. _

_The Dark Side was strong on Shola. The monster is a powerful Dark Force user, and his servants are creations of the lost art of _Mecho-Daru-Vitae_, but more refined than Belia Darzu's creations of a millennia ago. They are mindless, powerful, and nearly unstoppable minions born of the power of the Dark Side. Phiht Piroc has no idea of what hell the fire-world of Shola really hides. _

**Hyperspace, YT-2400 freighter **_**Call of Destiny**_**, nearing the Taris system**

I sat in front of the control console of my starship, wondering. After over a decade, an old friend has contacted me, asking for aid. I hadn't thought of him in some time, but as I sat here, in the surreal world of hyperspace. I feared for him. I didn't feel emotion all that well anymore, but I actually felt fear. I worried that he would die before I could help him. Before I could help him though, I had a job to finish. Drolslobba couldn't be kept waiting. I had a job to finish.

Pulling back on a lever on the console, I pulled the _Destiny_ out of lightspeed. Before me loomed the city-world of Taris. Like Coruscant, much of the planet was covered in a massive city, towering kilometers 

above the actual surface of the planet. Parts of the underlevels of Taris never saw daylight. From this planet in the Outer Rim, Drolslobba ran his criminal empire.

While actually an extension of the prominent Besadii clan _kajidic_, Drolslobba's operation on Taris was a powerful empire in its own right. He, like Desilijic's member Jabba, had a massive operation running much of the crime, organized and whatnot, throughout the sector. His greasy hands were in everything from smuggling to prostitution to gambling, even to murder. Every criminal in this sector of space ultimately answered to Drolslobba. It was him that had put the price out on Renatu Madak, and it was to him I had to bring the small wooden box from Madak's cargo hold. The box sat on the seat next to me, strapped down in the crash webbing restraints.

Tapping a couple keys on the console, I transmitted the landing codes to land at Drolslobba's palace, a huge building in the government district of Taris. In a sense, it was slightly ironic. The Hutt ran the biggest illicit business in this corner of the galaxy from a high-rise in the home of what passed for a local Tarisian government. His palace was practically next door from the Imperial Governor's residence on Taris. Rumors I've heard say that Governor Adriadian was good friends with Drolslobba. It would explain why the Hutt's cronies never got caught at anything.

The skyline of the main part of the city on Taris came into view as I swept the _Destiny_ across the huge ocean that dominated the world. The sight was breathtaking, the ocean reflecting the sunlight in glimmering patterns. But I didn't pay much attention to it. Drolslobba's palace was in view.

The Hutt's citadel was right on the ocean, a massive, robust tower that, in a way, resembled the other Hutt palaces across the galaxy. It looked squat and thick compared to the other towers nearby, but it still dominated the coastal skyline. Near to Drolslobba's tower was the highest spire on the planet, the residence of the Imperial governor. A sharp contrast to Drolslobba's squat, domed tower, the residence of the governor was a tall, thin, and needlepointed skyscraper. Its outer shell was made of mirrored transparisteel, giving it a glimmering appearance in the morning sun. I transmitted ID codes to Drolslobba's hangar control. As the console beeped an affirmative response, massive door on the side of Drolslobba's tower slid open. Guiding my freighter through the opening, I found myself inside a massive hangar. It probably took up the majority of this floor of the tower. Other starships, representing every small starship on the market, from gunboats to yachts to junk haulers, sat in berths arranged neatly across the wide space. Finding a berth lit for landing, I smoothly landed in the square, feeling an almost-satisfying lurch as the ship's landing gear deployed and took on the weight of the _Call of Destiny_. Grabbing the wooden box on the seat beside me, I rose from the pilot's chair and walked into the main hold of the freighter. I opened the weapon locker and removed a set of WESTAR-34 blaster pistols in matching leather holsters. In the middle of a Hutt's palace, I didn't want to appear to heavily armed, lest I insult my host. I clipped the holsters to my belt, then exited the freighter, into the dimly-lit hangar of Drolslobba's palace.

**Taris, Palace of Drolslobba Besadii Grondi**

"Ah!" The voice of Drolslobba boomed as I entered what passed as his throne room. The massive Hutt reclined on a raised platform, surrounded by slave girls of several species, most prominently Twi'leks and Humans. "Phiht Piroc, my good friend! I hope you bring news of Madak's timely death."

"It was taken care of as paid for, Lord Drolslobba." I was always polite to the Hutt. He always followed through on his promises, a respectable quality in this age, even for a Hutt. He paid well for my assignments, and sometimes he was so elated with my success, I walked away with a bonus. He was an unusually generous Hutt, which worked by me. I walked close to the dais and placed the small wooden box from Madak's ship in front of the Hutt. He was definitely happy, judging by the huge grin crossing his ugly blob of a head. His eyes were widened too, which amplified the pale orange of them. A disgusting creature, to be sure, but a generous one as well.

"You please me yet again, Phiht Piroc." He motioned to a male Human standing to the far end of the room. The slightly-overweight man ran forward and opened the box sitting in front of his master. He pulled back the hinged lid, revealing a small wooden carving.

All in all, it looked disappointing. I expected something more grandiose. But the Hutt was happy. That's what really counted.

"This means a lot to me, bounty hunter, perhaps more than you can imagine. As a gesture of my appreciation, I'm going to give you a twenty percent bonus to the agreed-upon sum."

I smiled behind the visor of the Mandalorian helmet I wore. "I appreciate your generosity, Lord Drolslobba."

The big Hutt still grinned. He clutched the box in his tiny little hands with glee, like some small child with a cherished toy. "If there is any other way I can assist you, my esteemed friend, do not hesitate to ask. Your assistance is always valuable, so it's only fair that I assist you in return, if needed.

I thought about it for a second. Drolslobba had a massive criminal empire, like a lot of Hutts. Perhaps he knew something about the out-of-the-way world of Shola. "Your eminence, I'm curious. Do you know anything of the world of Shola? It's a volcanic planet in the Outer Rim. I must travel there shortly, and I know nothing of the world."

Drolslobba's huge grin disappeared, and it was replaced with a look resembling horror. "My friend, Shola is a hell world, in more ways than one. I would advise you not to travel there, unless you absolutely must."

"Drolslobba, Your Eminence, I must travel there. There isn't an option."

The Hutt grimaced. "Shola is a volcanic world. It was, at one time, home to a species of humanoids, but they're all gone now. They tunneled down towards the planet's core, and nearly made 

it, but in the process destroyed their entire species. The entire surface is covered in volcanoes, lava, and ash, much like Sullust or Mustafar. But, as of late, the rumor amongst gunrunners and smugglers, who sometimes use the world for a base, is that there is a Dark Jedi on the world."

"What can you tell me of the Dark Jedi?"

"According to rumor, he was once a Jedi Knight who fell away from the order, and the Light Side of the Force, during the Clone Wars. He somehow got his hands on a Sith holocron and learned several dark, twisted powers from it. He holed up on Shola in some sort of castle built into the side of a mountain. He's lured many of my smugglers and operatives on the world to the castle, as he has with many who step on the surface. There, according to rumor, he makes each and every one of them his slave."

From the rumors Drolslobba had heard, this Dark Jedi was very powerful, and bent on power. My curiosity, however, was spiked by the holocron he mentioned. What Dark Lord had made it? The way Drolslobba talked about it, he had learned a way to bend a massive amount of people to his will. That could be a problem too. A Dark Jedi holed up in a castle is bad enough, but throwing an army of minions in there as well is crazy. But I made a promise to Roykin, and I'd go through on it.

"Drolslobba, this Dark Jedi is who I'm after. I'm going to Shola to take care of him."

I had thought the look of horror on his face was bad the first time. He somehow looked even more horrified this time. "Phiht, my friend, that task may be too much for even you. Jedi are bad enough to deal with. Dark Jedi are worse."

"I must go."

The Hutt frowned. Who would have thought a Hutt was capable of caring? "So be it. Your transport will be refueled and ready to go when you reach the hangar. If you return, I may have another assignment for you, my friend. Don't get yourself killed."

"I won't Drolslobba, and thank you." I turned and swept from the Hutt's throne room. As I walked, I evaluated what I knew so far. The Dark Jedi had a huge castle as his lair, and inside it somewhere was Roykin, and possibly an army of mindless slaves to the Dark Jedi's will. I had encountered a few Force-users in my travels, especially during the Clone Wars a decade ago. They were powerful and, in the instances of some of the acolytes in league with the Separatists during the war, frightening. I had never faced one in combat though. I had no idea how to face a Force-user in combat. A Jedi had an awesome command of the Force, and could draw upon many powers during combat. They also used lightsabers, which could easily be trouble. The _beskar_ plating of my armor could provide protection against lightsabers, but if it cut through anything not covered by armor I could end up missing a limb. All in all, the odds were stacked against me.

I reached the hangar and entered the massive, cavernous space. A ground crew was just finishing with refueling the _Destiny_ as I reached the boarding ramp. I went aboard, and not even bothering to stow my weapons in the locker in the main hold, I entered the cockpit and powered the 

ship up. I activated the ship's repulsors, lifting it off the ground, and swung out of the hangar into the night sky of Taris, brilliantly lit by the lights of the buildings around me. I pulled the ship into outer orbit, out of Taris's gravity well, and plotted a course to the hell world of Shola. The stars flared around me, and the _Call of Destiny_ entered hyperspace.


	3. Chapter 3: At Hell's Gates

_Screams of pain, and of terror. The Dark Jedi, the ghostly shadow at the edges of Dermitchal's perception, laughed, the maniacal laugh that had become a daily constant. He was sure the monstrous blends of machinery and flesh that stood in the room, the technobeast zombies, would have laughed too if they could but feel emotion again. _

_Lightning leapt from the shadow's fingertips, striking the Mandalorian warrior in the chest. More screams. The pain fed the shadow. The shadow grew stronger. The shadow's strength had to grow. It sensed a tremor in the Force._

_Someone had arrived at Shola. The hellworld had a new visitor. This visitor was strong, and the shadow could sense that his soul would be delectable for feeding._

_Piroc had come at last._

**Space, Shola System**

The _Call of Destiny _flared back into realspace in the Shola system. Outside the cockpit viewport, the planet loomed, a foreboding sphere of flame, in the blackness of space. I guided the ship down toward the fiery world, intent on finding that castle, getting Roykin, and spacing out as fast as I could. It all seemed like a good plan. The Dark Jedi that was supposedly here would no doubt be unwilling to be cooperative enough for it to work, though. I could feel it in my gut.

The _Call_ suddenly shuddered as I entered the upper atmosphere of Shola. I checked over the external sensors. There was very little wind. What the hell could cause a freighter to lurch like that?

Again, the freighter suddenly shook violently. I would have been thrown clear of my seat if I weren't buckled in. The freighter kept shaking, and suddenly a violent sound blasted through the ship. Proximity alarms started wailing. A whole chunk of the _Call_, nearly the entire port side of the freighter, had been ripped clean away. A huge mass of metal was just gone.

I unbuckled, a risky move right now, and ran from the cockpit and into the main hold. I stopped short, right by the equipment locker. You could see straight out to the sky!

I ripped the locker open frantically, and grabbed the WESTAR-M5, my WESTAR-34s and my Bryar pistol, and ran back into the cockpit. I was back in my seat and buckled as the first impact came.

More alarms blared, this time for shield impact. I looked out the viewport into the hellish scene before me, and couldn't believe what I saw flying toward the ship. It was… by Chaos, it was a huge swarm of rocks. Kriffing rocks were flying towards the _Call_ at a speed exceeding most missiles.

By Hell!

The swarm of rocks hit the ship full on. I covered my face with one arm, despite my helmet, as the viewport shattered from the impact. I could hear the impacts from across the ship, making it lurch, 

even as I fought to maintain control. Another impact, this one bigger than the other ones, sounded through the ship. I looked at the readouts in horror. The engines were gone!

A ship without engines was nothing short of a massive coffin, and in atmosphere, it's a massive coffin being dragged down by gravity. The ship was falling, from a pretty damn good height, toward the rivers of lava below.

In good news, I could see the castle Drolslobba told me about. The black turrets almost blended into the mountains around it. I had one shot to make this work.

I flipped up a small panel on the console and flicked one of the switches. Behind me, the door to the cockpit slid shut. I flicked the second switch, and with an even more powerful lurch, the cockpit, which also functioned as an escape pod, broke free of the doomed _Call of Destiny_, and rocketed towards the planet below.

The mountains were coming up fast.

Really fast.

Damn it.

The pod roared out of the sky and into the mountain chain near the castle. The pod hit ground, bounced once violently, and hit the ground again, skidding across the dirt and rock to a halt at a huge boulder. On the sensor board, I could see the flare of an explosion behind us as the _Call of Destiny_ succumbed to its destiny: a huge fireball blasting outward from a crater on the planet's surface.

I just had one question as I sat there, still buckled into the pilot's seat of the cockpit/escape pod. What the hell just happened? How the hell did the rocks get catapulted that high into the sky? And what happened to the side of the ship at the beginning of all that?

There was only one even remotely logical explanation for all that, and it was really pushing it.

The Dark Jedi. He somehow managed to use the mystical Force to destroy a ship without conventional weaponry. If he could do something of that magnitude, I was kind of worried for Dermitchal's chances, and my own. There was no way this could be good.

I belted on my sidearms and grabbed the M5 rifle. Glancing up at the castle several hundred feet up above me, two thoughts crossed my mind.

One: it is gonna be one hell of a climb.

Two: I have a really bad feeling about this.

"_Your friend is here," the voice hissed. "He's more skilled than I could have imagined." Dermitchal could feel the shadow somehow… extending himself, reaching out. It must be the all-powerful Force the Jedi _

_were supposed to have. "He comes here even now to save you. How noble." The shadow spat the word, as if it soiled his tongue. The shadow's hooded face turned to one of the zombie-like minions in the room. "Find Piroc. Bring him before me. And I will kill both of you."_

The mountains were absolutely terrific. Impossible to scale, I had to rely on my whipcord grappling hook and wrist vibroblades to ascend near-vertical cliffs. By the time I had reached a point where I could stop, a small outcrop just big enough to sit on somewhat comfortably, I was exhausted. My arms were sore and my back ached. And the heat from the flaming lava 1,000 meters below me really wasn't helping. The only water I had was the minimal life-support supply in my helmet. I had drained half of it already, and I still had a long way to go.

After about an hour of resting, I turned and began to scale the cliff face again. My arms were sore from pulling myself up and up over the course of several hours, and I wouldn't be in peak fighting shape when I reached the top. I'd have to find cover for a time when I got up there and rest.

I reached another outcrop, a slightly larger one, and decided to rest there for a few hours. Whatever was waiting for me up top was certainly not friendly, and since it was maybe another half hour climb to the top, it could wait for morning. Or whenever I woke up. I don't know what the local time is.

As I took my helmet off, I heard, above the roar of the lava far below, an inhuman wail bellow across the mountain range, echoing eerily. And another wail joined in, and another. Soon there were a dozen different things wailing from the top of the mountain.

No doubt they were the mindless minions of the Dark Jedi.

And they were surely on the hunt. For me. He knew I was coming.

There wasn't a chance in Hell that this was good at all.


	4. Chapter 4: The Warrior Stands Alone

_"Your friend is strong, that much is apparent. He survives what would kill a normal man." The shadow reached out to his captive and put his hand on the prisoner's cheek. "When he arrives, I will feed on both your souls, and you both will become my slaves."_

_The prisoner spat at the shadow, but the glob of saliva never made it. It just halted in midair, and was then shot back in the prisoner's face. Even with his own spit running down his cheek, he remained defiant. "Piroc won't die by your hand. He'll kill you. He's more dangerous than you know."_

_The shadow laughed, a dark sound in the darkness of the room. "I look forward to the challenge I haven't had in years. Even the Clone Wars didn't challenge me!" The shadowy figure paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together in glee. "The Emperor has no idea what I am. I will supplant him, and make all beings in the galaxy my slaves, like my technobeasts here. Then everyone will recognize true power, and bow before me."_

_"Your madness will be your downfall."_

_"And your faith in your friend will be yours. I look forward to destroying you both."_

**Shola**

I pulled myself up and over the lip of the cliff as silently as I could. I didn't want the horrors of the castle overrunning me before I reached Roykin. I brought up my M-5 and checked my surroundings. I was on some sort of balcony, with two entries to the castle. I chose the rightmost one, and cautiously entered.

The walls were dark and gloomy, and were utterly devoid of any decoration or anything. There were no lights. There was no artwork on the walls. Nothing at all. I activated my helmet's night-for-day vision and proceeded forward. And, from somewhere ahead of me, there came another chilling scream. My heart began to race, and I could feel adrenaline in my veins, but I fought the urge to rush. Rushing gave me a better opportunity to make a mistake, and I wasn't willing to risk it.

I worked my way forward, towards the innards of the castle. I moved silently and with great caution. I stopped to check every doorway off the main one I seemed to be in. Nothing stirred in this massive fortress. It was like it was empty. But I knew this wasn't the case. There was some sort of aura here, and it was pervasive. It was like this place was alive, somehow radiating power and… darkness. That was the only word that made sense. It was haunting.

And suddenly, the hallway ended in a massive chamber. It was impressive in size, probably a banquet hall or something similar in the days it was inhabited. My night-for-day vision, however, couldn't see every corner of the room, leaving shadowy expanses at the edges of my vision.

Did something hide in the shadows?

Was there something else here?

I kept my M-5 up and ready. I would gladly shoot and kill first and probably skip the question-asking right now. I haven't ever felt such dread. The atmosphere of the castle as well as the Force-powered attack on the _Call of Destiny_ and the stories of a Dark Jedi and mindless minions really had me worried for my own well-being.

Suddenly, something moved to my left.

I swung my rifle up and fired, dropping the something in its tracks. But there were a hell of a lot more somethings, suddenly coming to life all over the chamber. They crawled off the walls and fell from the ceiling. My friend-or-foe identifier in my helmet tagged over a hundred moving bipedal objects, but it was picking up minimal life signs from each. In fact, it was almost as if they were moving dead men, as there was minimal heartbeat or breathing. Cyborgs, perhaps? But that didn't seem possible.

What the hell did I walk into?

I began to fire, systematically mowing down object after object as I quickly backed into the hallway I came in from. Hopefully that would allow me to funnel opposition in from one direction and take them down a couple at a time.

I got maybe twenty feet down the corridor, firing all the way, when my HUD pinged movement behind me. They had boxed me in. _Fierfek_, I had seriously miscalculated.

I kept my M-5 up with my right hand, while with my left I reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a thermal detonator. I armed it and lobbed it down the corridor. I spun and fired behind me as several of the bipedal monsters came out of the shadows, while from the direction of the massive chamber I could hear the blast of the detonator as it went off.

My HUD read fewer monsters, but there were still a hell of a lot. I switched my M-5 to my left hand, firing in the direction of the chamber, while with my right I drew my Bryar and began to fire in both directions.

It was a war of attrition, and I was losing. I would run out of ammo long before they ran out of bodies to throw at me. I holstered the Bryar and armed my gauntlet flamethrower.

But I never had the chance to use it. My HUD picked up more movement from a third direction.

I had forgotten the side passages!

My 360 degree vision registered something leaping from a side passageway. I felt a hard impact across my helmet, and with a jolt of pain as I hit the ground hard. The last thing I saw before my vision faded was a metallic foot smash down on my M-5 rifle, crushing it.

***

The first thing I heard when I regained consciousness was mad cackling. My eyes slowly opened, and as the fog cleared from them I could see I was in some sort of dungeon-like chamber. It was dark, and I could see little. My helmet had been removed, and for the first time in a day I felt cold air on my face.

I dim light came on, and I could see a little better. I looked around. I was chained by thick links hanging from the ceiling, and my feet just barely touched the ground. My helmet, my Bryar, and my two WESTAR blasters lay on the floor at my feet. I looked to my right and saw Roykin, hung similarly to me about six feet away. He looked bad. He still wore his pale green armor, but the chest plate had splashes of dark red on it. Judging by the way his face looked, it was blood. His blood.

I lifted my head and saw my captor for the first time. He wore a dark grey cloak, completely shrouding his features. I could tell it was a male by the build, even under the robe: broad shoulders and tall, well over six feet. The hood of the cloak completely shrouded his features. He was surely the source of the cackling I heard.

"So you at last awaken," the shadowy figured mewed. The voice was oily, almost slimy and reptilian in quality. "Your display in the corridors of my castle was rather impressive. You're quite the fighter."

"Let me go and I'll show you a fight," I snarled.

The hooded figure laughed again. "Perhaps, in time, I will decide to test your combat abilities firsthand. But only after you become my slave."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes, my slave. It's a shame you couldn't see my beautiful creations in their entire splendor. Your vision in the dark is poor, for sure, but my metanecron would impress even you if you could have seen them." He gestured to his right. "See for yourself."

I turned, and I gasped in outright horror. It was disgusting. It was bipedal, as I could tell during my rather brief fight. It looked like a fusion of a human and machine parts. Complete sections of body were gone, replaced with machine parts, like a droid. Even the face was gone, and in its stead was a metal mass with a blinking red diode in place of an eye. Both arms ended in scythe-like blades.

"It's called a metanecron, or a technobeast, whichever you prefer. It's a lost, but now rediscovered, Dark Side art used during the New Sith Wars. It's a virus that infects a host and slowly turns flesh to metal. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's hideous and perverse!" I spat. "I refuse to become one of them."

"You hardly are in a position to refuse. And I didn't intend to give you a choice." The shadow moved to the right, towards the door, which apparently the technobeast was guarding. "I'll leave you for now. I have much to do, and it appears you deserve a reunion with your friend. When I return, I will feed on your soul and you will become a slave to my will."

"What? My soul?" I couldn't even believe what I was hearing.

"Ah, your ears work. Astounding." With that the shadow left, followed by the technobeast guard. The door swung shut and I could hear the slam of a heavy bolt sliding into place.

With that, I was trapped, with both myself and Roykin, who looked injured and unconscious, in the lair of some sort of Dark Jedi.


End file.
